Next Door Neighbor
by KAirismatic
Summary: The new neighbor brings more than Andy bargained for when he paid the visit when he turns out to be an old assumed "dead" accomplice of Chucky. Andy's not sure he'll be able to help mend the tear between Eddie Caputo and Charles Lee Ray. Language.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **For,** Muse of Suffering,** who wanted this fic. Sorry I took so very long! (You must have waited the time span of about a year and a half, perhaps? What patience- how lazy I am!)

This was meant to be a one-shot, but it's gotten so long I will be putting it up in three or four parts, depending on how this goes.

PS- to **Ms Mystry****_, _**who I cannot respond to (really dearest, I wish you were not a guest so I could reply to you!), I have always entertained the idea of the birthday dilemma, and I will attempt to work on _that _prompt ASAP.

PPS- I DID deactivate my old DeviantArt account, but my new account is karisele . deviantart . com J

"Why would you want to do that?" Chucky asked. "There's no reason for us to talk to whoever they are- all this about _meeting new neighbors_ is bullshit. Besides, I doubt they'll even _use _whatever you put in this gay little welcome basket." He frowned, seemingly unsatisfied by what was in the perky looking subject.

Andy gave him a look, one that clearly translated to _would you like to help, then? _The ginger shook his head furiously.

"And _no, _I want no part in this!" he exclaimed, gesturing to everywhere around the basket. "Tell them this is from you- _fine_, go be all friendly and fraternize with strangers- but don't involve _me_."

To which Andy only shrugged and responded, "Suit yourself."

The idea came about when Andy had first seen a mover's van backing up into the driveway of a small house that had been empty as far as the two of them could remember. It wasn't too shabby of a place; at least, it wasn't even nearly _half _as hopeless as their own home had been (before they'd fixed it up of course, try as Chucky might to pretend the house was still a piece of junk, it clearly had quite the change for the better), but still, it had been empty until one day in the late fall about two or so weeks ago.

Andy finished packing up the basket, tying on a ribbon which Chucky would forever after tease him for being _too perfect_. He reached the front door before turning to Chucky one last time. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to come?" he asked as he wrapped on a scarf. "I don't want to have to wait up later down the road when you change your mind and decide to come toddling after me."

He was now making a teasing gesture; both of them knew how Chucky looked funny when he ran, which would usually occur when Andy had already wandered somewhere far ahead, leaving the ex-convict to, basically, _toddle _behind.

At this, Chucky made a rather crude gesture. "Suck it," he snarled.

"Maybe later," Andy replied curtly as he went out the door.

The lawn to the house next door looked very unkempt, but Andy knew better than to judge. _He _had to mow the grass, or else he'd lose a certain killer doll in the jungle of the front yard. Besides, the family had just moved in. They were probably still settling into their new home. Andy jumped up the front steps, reached for the doorbell and pressed gently, waiting to hear the soft _ding_. He would make sure they would feel at home. Maybe they could have an outdoor grill or something sometime?

The door opened and interrupted his plans of friend-making with the neighbors. A rough looking man appeared behind it, blinking at the sunlight that was just starting to reach its hottest for the day. "Can I help you?" he asked, voice gruff. He sounded like a smoker, probably middle aged. He was also dressed quite sloppily, Andy noticed, with unruly curls of hair and dirty clothes that looked as if they hadn't been washed for weeks. Either he did as he pleased, or he was a single guy.

"Hello," he said cheerily stretching out a welcoming hand. "I'm Andy Barclay, your neighbor just next door to the left." He pointed towards his house so that the new neighbor could see. "I just wanted to come by and welcome you- you know, a neighborly gesture of sorts."

The man grunted. "Eddie," he said, regarding the basket with wary eyes. "Eddie Caputo." He looked a bit sheepish before shaking Andy's hand and continuing hesitantly. "You wanna come in or something?" He opened the door a little wider, and Andy nodded.

_Something about his name sounds familiar…_

"Well, just for a little while," he replied. "Can't stay too long, Chucky will probably blow up my cell-phone telling me to hurry up and get back." He snorted when his phone vibrated in his back pocket, as if on cue.

Eddie gave a little start and looked at him curiously, which Andy assumed was because he had no idea who Chucky was.

"Chucky is my, uhm… he lives with me," he ended lamely, as sort of an explanation.

He didn't really know what you called that. A _housemate_, perhaps?

He followed Eddie into the house, which was dark, and boxes were still piled everywhere, some opened, some not, but either way, it was hard to step around all the items that had spilled across the floor. Andy supposed Mr. Caputo was still unpacking. "Are you settling in okay?" he asked, trying to start a small conversation. Eddie shrugged. "Yah, well, it's been going, I suppose," he replied. He scratched the back of his head. "I'm sort of a lazy son of a bitch; all this unpacking and organizing is not really up my alley." He chuckled, and Andy gave a polite laugh as a response.

The phone had buzzed at least five more times in his pocket. He reached into it and switched the phone off.

"Persistent guy, this Chucky?" Eddie asked, noticing Andy's sudden reaction. Andy quietly observed that there was something more than curiosity there, almost as if this man _knew _Chucky. He nodded. "Just a bit, yah," he responded, keeping his tone light, but a sickening feeling was settling in his stomach. Maybe he _shouldn't _have mentioned Chucky? He held up the basket. "Where should I put this?" he asked. He thought it best to change the subject.

Eddie waved noncommittally towards a certain stack of boxes. "Anywhere, really," he provided, quite obviously still on the subject of the messages in Andy's phone. "How do you know this Chucky guy anyways?" he persists.

Andy felt his mouth go dry. How could he give away some without giving away too much? Or maybe he could come up with a white lie. "I.. uhm… well, it's a long story," he finally settled on. It was a truth, at least that much of it. He gave a small smile to try and avoid further questioning.

But Eddie had a knowing look in his eyes. "I understand that, if we are speaking of the same person here," he said softly, gazing over at the basket. Almost as if he had a sort of dark secret between himself and the person Andy now knew. Something Chucky had not told him.

Chucky hadn't told him a lot of things. Would it really be so wrong if he found out by asking this guy here?

That's when it had hit him: Eddie. _Eddie Caputo._

"Wait a minute," he started suddenly, pointing out a finger almost accusingly, although he wasn't quite sure what he was accusing the man _of_. "I remember you! You were that guy whose house was set on fire and it had exploded!" His eyes grew wide with the sudden realization. "I thought you had died!"

At this, Eddie laughed. "Everyone did," he replied. "Especially Charles- I'm guessing the old fucker doesn't know I'm still around, does he?" he asked, now pointedly staring at Andy. "Does he?" he asked again, a bitter tone to his voice.

"No," Andy mumbled, not quite liking the darker atmosphere settling in. "He doesn't. And neither did I, until now."

"Yeah," Eddie said, and Andy noticed, to his relief, that the bitterness had worn away to a vulnerable show of regret. "I suppose maybe it's better that way, huh? Let him think he's gotten his little revenge on me." He meandered into the kitchen, leaving Andy curiously with no choice but to follow.

The man was reaching into the fridge- for a can of beer, it made sense that he would at least get _that _working, Andy thought. Food is essential. Also beer, he supposed, for Eddie in particular.

But he was getting distracted.

"Can… may I ask, why _exactly_ Chucky was trying to get revenge on you?" Andy asked as politely as he could. Eddie took a long swig from his can before answering. "Why? Can't you just ask him?" he wondered. "You live with the guy."

"Well, he's not exactly the most… open type."

Eddie, laughed, taking one last full swallow from the now empty can, which he crushed easily. "You got that damn right," he said. Then he sighed. "Well, I guess you deserve it, and in a way, he does too…" he muttered softly, and he began to rub his hands guiltily. "Think of it as my apology to him."

_What the fuck is taking so long? It doesn't take that long to walk there and back._

_Are they really that interesting?_

_Does he have a wife? Does she have a large rack?_

_Or maybe he's a single bastard, old. Some old pervert._

_Are you getting friendly with some old pervert, Andy?_

_Fuck you. I bet it's a hot chick. You dick. _

_It's some hot girl and you don't wanna tell me. _

_I bet you're flirting with her, you lousy fuck. _

_Bet you're all 'lemme help you unpack 'cuz I'm a hero'- You moronic shit._

_Bet you just told her I'm your mom texting you. Loser._

_Are you ignoring me? _

_Fuck you._

_Hurry the fuck up. Why are you so goddamn slow?_


	2. Chapter 2

Andy couldn't text Chucky back when he left Caputo's place. For one, his phone kept receiving all the messages at once, and also, he wouldn't quite know what to say. What would he say when he returned?

Suppose he just said, "Hey, Chucky, I met your old buddy who left you behind to rot."

That would be disastrous. Bad idea.

Andy sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets as he crossed the yard onto the dirt road towards home. He walked as slowly as he could, trying to leave himself more time to ponder how he could deal with this situation with the least possible outbursts and anger.

He could think of none.

Chucky was already at the door when he got home. "You son of a bitch!" he growled. "Just go ahead and ignore me, why don't you? I could be texting you that I was _dying_, but I would already be fucking _dead_, you stupid shit." He continued to gripe, even at Andy's still silence.

Well, they were off to a great start. "I turned my phone off," he replied simply.

If he was completely honest with himself, there was _no _way that he could go through with this without any sort of drama if Chucky was involved. There was just bound to be some sort of angry squabble to occur between them. Unless he just didn't tell the doll _who_ was there- nonsense, he thought immediately after. What would he say? Would he lie?

He could lie- it isn't as if Chucky would ever put up the effort to go over there and see who it was. Chucky would believe every word he said. But that was because he had undeniable trust in him, and Andy really didn't want to break that trust, even if telling the truth meant several days of no peace.

Chucky was still cursing at him for his "neglective behavior" when Andy finally spoke, lowly and heavily. "Chucky, I have to tell you something."

There was a sudden, deadly silence. Something about the way Andy said those words stopped Chucky short, and he looked up at the young man, still panting from his long winded rant. He had only been a _little _angry, really. What was Andy so worked up about that there was no smile to ease away that small frustration? What had him so quiet and serious?

He was a bit afraid to find out. "What?" he choked out, not all too eager to receive the answer.

Andy shifted his feet uncomfortably before answering. "Our neighbor. Ah- he's someone we know. You more than me, actually." Chucky had no response, his face still frozen in an awkward stare of uncomfortable questioning. Andy waved him over to the couch, saying, "sit down. Just sit down."

Chucky tried to just growl, as if this was a small annoyance, but it came out more like a whine. _Fuck_.

He scowled and shuffled over to the old couch, choosing to look interested in it rather than what Andy had to say. The pattern was definitely dated, but they _had _gotten it from some old cheap junk store. Chucky had _told _Andy that this couch was a piece of shit, but the knucklehead hadn't listened. _He _thought it had had character. _And fuck me_, Chucky thought. _This piece of shit actually grew on me_. There were a lot of memories embedded in the old cloth, and if you asked him now, he wouldn't want to change it.

Actually, he would probably lie and say he still hated it. But that was besides the point.

The fact was, the whole _couch _was besides the point. Andy obviously had something he needed to say, and it seemed to be really important. He seemed really aggravated about it too, wringing his hands and waiting for him to look up.

"Well," Chucky said, at last. "What is it?"

Andy put a hand on his shoulder. That was not a good sign.

"C'mon, Andy, seriously," he said, trying to ease the tension. "What the fuck happened? I was kidding about the hot chick, I swear. It's fine if you helped her, really. I don't really give a da…" he stopped at the feel of Andy's fingers over his mouth- he would've cussed him out, for shutting him up like that, fuck him. But Andy looked much too serious.

"Chucky, you remember that one day you made me go to some old house after school? And you blew it up? Remember when they said the resident in that house died?" Chucky nodded. So what? "And so?" he asked aloud. "What the fuck does _that _have to do with anything? Some old dead shit?"

"Chucky, he's not dead."

The doll blinked once, twice. Took it all in slowly. "What?"

"He's not dead. Eddie Caputo is not dead."

Chucky shook his head. "No, no, shut up, you stupid _shit_, you don't know what you're talking about," he started, covering his ears as Andy tried to continue. "He died. He's dead. He's fucking _dead_, Andy, we saw it. He's dead, he has to be-" he was pushing Andy's hands away, he didn't want Andy _touching_ him. That little fucker was _dead_. He was.

Andy continued to patiently reach for him, finally getting a hold of the angrily waving hands. "Chucky, Chucky, please, listen- you've _got _to listen to me," he kept saying, keeping a firm but gentle grip around the small fists. "The fact is, he's _alive_. He's here. He's right next to us."

Blue eyes, eyes much too bright, were wide and set on him. Underneath the deepening frown, Andy could see where the hurt was buried. "Fine. So the bastard's alive," Chucky was mumbling, as if he didn't care. But they both knew better. "So what's it matter to _me_? I don't give a fuck that he's here. I hadn't wanted to go visit neighbors _anyways_. That was _your_ stupid idea." He still struggled a little from Andy's hold on his wrists, but Andy wasn't letting him go anytime soon.

"I think you should go talk to him."

"What?"

The doll looked incredulously at him for the second time in just a few minutes. Was he out of his fucking _mind_? No way was he going to see that disgusting, traitorous, asshole! There was absolutely no fucking way. None whatsoever. "No," he growled, staring at Andy with a poisonous glare. "I am _never_ speaking to that piece of shit. _Never_! Do you hear me? Do you even know what he fucking _did_ to me?"

"He left you behind."

Andy said it quite calmly, almost too quietly for the doll to hear over his own rage. "He abandoned you to be caught or killed- either way, he left you behind." Chucky was, in the best word to describe it, enraged. How _dare_ that motherfucker tell his secrets without _his _permission, and how _dare _Andy just tell him to go back when he _knew_ this!

"How _dare_ you!" he screamed angrily, finally able to jerk away. "How dare you tell me what I should and shouldn't do with that ass-hat! Even though you know _exactly_ what he did to me!" He wiped his eyes hastily- he would not, no, he would _not _fucking _cry_. Not here, not now, not ever. No tears wasted on that bastard.

Andy was trying to reason with him still, but Chucky would have none of it. "You don't _understand_, do you?" he shouted over what the young man was saying, whatever the hell it was. He didn't care. Andy had to understand, he didn't _fucking care._

"Because of _him_, I had to be in this fucking body in the first place! I would have still been out there, free, not stuck in this stupid weak ass excuse of a body! I would have never been chased down through the streets, never had to use that stupid voodoo chant, I would have never been your…!"

There was a moment that froze. It felt as if time had suddenly slowed down extremely as Chucky almost screamed out words he would have regret forever.

_I would have never been your doll. I would have never met you, Andy Barclay._

He stared, wide eyed, waiting for Andy to get angry. Or extremely upset. To punch him, please, _goddammit_, punch him. Tell him that wasn't very nice. Or at least yell back angrily that _he _didn't need all of the doll's shit. Chucky had abandoned _him_, too.

Chucky waited for a response, any sort of response. But Andy just sort of stared back at him, with a look the doll had only seen one other time, a long time ago.

The first time Andy had realized he was a killer. That shocked, blank look of denial, when Chucky had told him they were never really "friends to the end."

"Andy, I…"

"I was just going to say," Andy interrupted, his tone very bland, but it betrayed how hurt he was. "I was just going to suggest that you _try_ to see him. He said he was really sorry, and he seemed to feel really bad about it, that's all. I wasn't going to _make_ you do anything." He got up off the couch heavily, breathing slowly and deeply.

Chucky had been about to speak again, but once more, Andy cut in, muttering, "if you need me, I'll be in the shower," and Chucky was left noticing that the young man had almost said _want _ instead of _need_.

He hadn't meant to hurt him that way, really, he hadn't! He was just so angry. He had harbored a hatred for Caputo for leaving him for so long- and had focused on all the bad things that had come about as a result of being abandoned instead of realizing some of the good things that had come from it.

He heard the water turn on, having a sinking feeling in his gut that Andy was probably letting out all his own hurt under the spray, only to later turn off the faucet, dry himself, and behave as if Chucky had done nothing wrong. He would probably not even mention Caputo again unless he absolutely had to. He would wait until the doll was ready.

Fuck, he probably hadn't even wanted to mention their neighbor in the first place, but Chucky knew that Andy Barclay was a terrible liar. He would have had to tell him eventually, that Eddie was not dead, but alive, and not only that, had moved in right next door to them.

What was he going to say to Andy about what he'd nearly done? Simple apologies wouldn't do the job, he was sure of that. And Andy would never mention that he had ever been hurt in that moment on the couch. He would never even bring that moment up again, God forbid that he ever try and make Chucky feel fucking _guilty_.

Goddammit.

He sat in the aftermath of his anger, regretting everything. He had made a mess of things, _again_, and he wasn't sure how to fix it, as usual. Andy would, of course, forgive him for being so angry, but what was he going to do about Caputo? He still felt a harsh animosity for the son of a bitch, and was still in no mood to go see him. He figured he never would be.


	3. Chapter 3

When Andy stepped out of the shower, he had cooled on the inside by several degrees. He knew Chucky hadn't meant what he'd said, but that anger had still been very real. He sighed, running the towel through his hair. Perhaps this wasn't such a great idea, trying to get Chucky to see Eddie Caputo. I mean, the guy _had _left Chucky behind when obviously there was some trust there.

But he had thought that maybe they would have been able to patch things up. Eddie sure seemed like he regretted what he'd done.

Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that he was their neighbor? No. He couldn't have lied about it. He was glad at least Chucky knew, and that _he _had told him, and not by some awkward meet-up in the street. _He _had done all he could, himself.

With that peace in mind, he dressed himself promptly and opened the bathroom door. The slowly evaporating steam revealed the doll sitting at the foot of the bed. His arms were crossed and he still bore the deep-set frown on his face, but Andy knew that it wasn't from anger anymore. He hung the towel on the doorknob and gave himself a mental note to put it up later before sitting beside the hunched over figure.

He slowly molded his arm around the doll to put a hand on his far shoulder and squeeze lightly, but said nothing. There wasn't anything to say until Chucky started talking.

"I think- I'm going to go talk to him."

It was said, long and laboriously, but it was said nonetheless. Andy smiled down at him and rubbed his shoulder gently, but remained silent beside him. Chucky leaned against Andy's side and gave a weighty sigh. "You know it's not going to be real fuckin' easy, right?" he asked, almost calling him _little shit _or something of the sort, but catching himself just on time and deciding against it.

Andy let out a breathless chuckle that the doll felt against his cheek. "I don't imagine it will be," he said, and Chucky pressed closer to let every word's vibration rumble through him. "But you'll probably feel loads better once you get it out of the way."

"I fucking doubt it," Chucky replied, but he couldn't help hoping. He stared at Andy's sweater and just sat lost in thought. Andy simply stayed still, calm and solid like he always was. There was a pregnant pause where the two of them just sat so very near to each other before Chucky finally gave a bitter laugh, saying:

"Oh, you're probably right. You _always _are, you know that? You're always such smart ass." He elbowed Andy in the side. "I hate you."

He said it before he felt the sudden wonder if maybe he shouldn't have said it, and he panicked inside, though he didn't show it in his face when he looked up at Andy. But his eyes still searched to see and discover if Andy knew he didn't _really_ hate him, or if it wasn't the best idea to say such a thing.

But Andy elbowed him back, gently as he always did, and kissed his forehead before murmuring cheekily next to his ear, "So you'll do it?"

Chucky nodded, pushing him away- as the young man continued to be obnoxious and nuzzle against his hair. "_Yes_, goddammit, now quit burying your nose into my fucking skull, will you? Keep it up and you'll leave a goddamn _dent_." He felt Andy chuckle into his hair before breaking the contact, and the silence was broken between them.

"So- what're you feeling for dinner?" Andy asked, standing up and stretching. Just as the doll knew it would be, the young man had seemed to forget the hurtful things he'd said earlier. "We've still got leftovers in the fridge, and they shouldn't be too bad. I think they were from Tuesday?"

"Please- that shit was gross when you _first_ made it. Who knows what it'll taste like _now_," Chucky responded, ducking and laughing when Andy balled up his sweater and threw it at him. "Oh, well, thanks, _dearest_, for all your support," Andy snorted back, making a face. "Guess I won't ever fulfill my long-time dream of being a professional chef now."

"A dream come true for the rest of _us_," Chucky replied, picking up the sweater where it had landed behind him and throwing it back. "Put that to wash, it smells disgusting."

Andy laughed. "Does it?" he asked coyly, holding it up and walking towards the doll slowly. He made a dramatic sniff. "I don't smell a _thing_…"

"No- get that fucking dead _road kill_ smelling thing _away_ from me!"

It wasn't a very strong fight; Andy tackled the doll onto the bed and plastered the sweater's pit against his nose. They tussled for a bit before Andy finally relented and Chucky sprang up, throwing the sweater off of his face and shouting, "You are so fucking _dead_, do you hear? I am going to fucking _kill_ you in your sleep!" He got up on his knees and continued shouting threats as Andy laughed loudly, replying, "If you kill me, who's gonna make you food, huh? Better think _that _through…"

Chucky just screamed, "Andy!" while the snickering party ran off to most likely the kitchen to start dinner.

It was only when the doll knew for sure that Andy had gone that he allowed himself to smile, thought it didn't last long. He still didn't know what he was going to say to Eddie when he saw him again. He'd been so angry at him for so long, and truth be told, he still was. Andy seemed to have this idea that they could _patch up_, but Chucky wasn't feeling it.

He supposed he'd try anyways. What was there to lose, after all?

The kitchen smelled of food when Chucky finally walked in. He had been lying about Andy's cooking- really, it was actually pretty good, but he'd be damned before he told Andy that. The young man had already put the noodles on the table, but his back was turned towards the doll while he warmed sauce over the stove. He was humming along with a song on the radio, no doubt unaware of Chucky's presence.

Chucky decided he didn't need to let Andy know he was there. He just sat at the table, still mulling over what he was going to do about the Caputo situation. What if he just got so angry when he got there nothing came out right? What if they got in a huge fight? Chucky knew about his tendencies, if he got too angry- perhaps Caputo would _really_ be dead this time.

His thoughts were interrupted when Andy gave a, "Oh- gosh you're here. Geez, you scared me." He held out the sauce. "Almost dropped this."

"What a fucking loss _that _would be," Chucky muttered, sarcasm dripping over his words. Andy crossed his eyes at him. "Eat," he said, sticking a spoon into the pot. Chucky made a gagging face- to which Andy only laughed at- but nonetheless piled food on his plate.

It wasn't until after dinner that Andy mentioned Caputo again. He had gone out to sit on the porch swing for a bit and the doll had joined him, sitting cross-legged as the young man pushed the swing slowly. A cool sort of breeze was just barely drifting over them, but it was chilly enough to make Chucky shiver despite himself.

"Do you need me to come with you?" he asked as he draped the outdoor blanket over them. He looked at Chucky thoughtfully. "Because I think it's a conversation that only you two should have, but if you really feel like it'll be too hard…"

"Nah," Chucky sighed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "I don't fucking need you to hold my hand, Andy. I'm not a _baby_." He snickered, and Andy grinned before tousling his hair.

"Fine, fine, I get it. You're a big kid now," he teased back. He raised his voice to try and imitate his mother, Mrs. Norris. "Just make sure you call me when you get there, ok _sweetie_?"

Chucky laughed and punched Andy in the arm. "Shut up, you shithead," he said.

They sat huddled against each other in silence after that, just watching the sun slowly sink down behind the trees and the sky change slowly from blue, to orange, to red, to black. The stars had already made clear constellations and were winking down at them by the time they finally decided to head back in.


	4. Chapter 4

Eddie wasn't expecting a knock at the door. He knew that Andy guy had come over to be polite, but he wasn't really expecting any more visitors. Nobody came to see bums like him. The knock that came on his door that afternoon had him suspicious.

He reached over the side of his bed and cocked the gun he always had in some sort of compartment near him. This time it was a shoebox.

The knock came again, this time with a, "Open up you asshole. I know you're in there," and Eddie could almost not believe his ears. That sounded an awful lot like _Charles_. He shoved the gun into his back pocket and tip-toed to the door to peek as craftily as he could through the grimy window.

Well, there was one upside to not washing it.

It definitely sounded like Charles, but is sure as hell didn't look like him, or at least, not since Eddie had last seen him. This was- a little boy perhaps? He looked _maybe _six or seven years old, with a sweater. _A goddamn sweater and _scarf_._

Had he not looked at the boy's signature scowl and bright blue eyes, he wouldn't have believed it was Charles at all.

"I'm not going to fuckin' stand here all fuckin' day."

Eddie scrambled to the door and couldn't seem to open the door fast enough, though he wasn't quite sure what he was in a hurry for. He fumbled at the doorknob for a few minutes before finally cursing in frustration and opening the door.

"Took you long enough."

Eddie stared. "You're… you're…?" he began, dumbfounded. He was still unbelieving to what he was seeing. He scratched his head, tangling his fingers in hair he _really _needed to brush. He began to think that maybe this little boy happened to _talk_ like Charles, but not actually _be _him.

The boy crossed his arms and growled impatiently. "_Yes_ you fuckin' dope. It's me. Chucky. _Charles_." He leaned over to peek past Eddie into the house. "Ya' gonna' let me in, or are we gonna have a chat out here on your piece of shit porch?"

Still a bit taken back, Eddie slowly opened the door, murmuring a sort of, "Yeah, sure, sorry. Come on in," while just watching as the boy-Charles- made himself at home. He wasn't as ashamed of his house being a disheveled mess this time, but there was still an awkward air about it, having Charles here after all this time. Especially since there last parting had been on less than friendly terms.

Clearing his throat, Eddie had to try several times before he was finally able to bring himself to say, "You want a beer or something?" Chucky put his hand up and shook his head. "Fuck, _no_, thanks," he responded.

_No?_ Since when did Charles not want a drink? "You're a sober son of a bitch now?" he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. Chucky laughed loudly. "Shut your goddamn mouth," he drawled, leaning back against the couch- which, ashamedly, was still covered in moving boxes. "I just ain't feelin' it right now, is all."

Eddie nodded dumbly before sitting down next to Chucky, giving a heavy sigh as he reclined into the couch next to him. There was another long, drawn out pause, both persons awkwardly glancing towards the other and looking away the next minute. Eddie twiddled his thumbs. Chucky grunted every thirty seconds or so.

There was a sudden screech outside that made them both jump. Chucky snickered. "Some dumb bastard on the road," he said, and Eddie laughed weakly with him, offering a half-baked, "Yeah- stupid shit," before they settled back into the long dead silence again.

It was about a heartbeat and a half when Chucky finally cleared his throat and rubbed at his nose. "Look, Eddie, I…" he started, not quite sure where to go. Fuck- maybe he _should _have asked Andy to come along. Andy was better at this kind of thing than he was. _He_, on the other hand, had no clue how to even start it. What was he supposed to say?

_Why the fuck did you just leave me? I thought we were bros, you know? I fuckin' trusted you._

He began to feel angry now, that bit of resentment coiling inside him, and he noticed that his breaths quickened, shortened. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to stay calm, _stay calm. _How the hell did Andy do this all the time?

If nothing else good came out of this, he knew one thing for sure: he would never underestimate Andy's patience with him ever again. He was sure as hell grateful for it.

"I'm sorry."

It was a low mumble, and Eddie coughed so soon after he said it that Chucky almost didn't believe he'd heard it. "What?" he asked. He leaned forward. "What did you say?"

The distance between he and Eddie had decreased dramatically then.

"I said- I'm sorry." Eddie put his hand on the doll's shoulder, and Chucky wanted it and didn't want it all at the same time. He didn't know if he was all too ready for fucking emotion tsunami that was about to come with it.

"I'm really fucking _sorry_ I left you that day."

Ah- Chucky blinked quickly. No tears. None. He wasn't going to have it. He clenched his fists tighter and said nothing; goddammit, he was scared of what would come out if he opened his mouth. Instead he just looked off, afraid to look at Eddie's expression. If the bastard looked apologetic, he would fucking _lose _it.

He hadn't realized that he'd still been holding onto the hurt after so long. Andy had been right, as usual. It fucking sucked dealing with all this right now.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, almost choking on every word, just opening enough to let the words out and not the pain- _not the pain_. He can't know how badly this hurt him.

Eddie sighed and let go of his hold on Charles. Why? What a question. It was one he'd never answered himself, really. Why _had _he left him? Because he'd been afraid? Perhaps- they had been pursued by the police and the cops had been on their asses. Pretty damn close. Eddie remembered trying to calculate in those last moments, trying to decide how many seconds it would take for Charles to get into the car and if that was enough time to still evade the police.

"I remember the look on your face, dammit," he muttered. Charles hadn't looked towards him yet- but that was usual for him, the secretive bastard. He never wanted anyone to know how he felt about anything. From the angle he was at, it looked almost nonchalant, as if Charles really didn't give a single shit about that day.

"I was looking in the rear-view mirror as I drove off. You- I'd never felt so guilty in my entire life, fuck you. You know that?" Eddie breathed out a harsh chuckle. "_Me_- I've stolen and murdered, and I had never felt so guilty until that day."

"I _trusted _you."

Eddie ran his fingers through his mop of hair. "I know."

"I fucking _trusted _you. You promised me- we'd have each other's backs."

He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know where this was going. Was Charles going to leave, suddenly? Was there going to be a fight- honestly, he couldn't do it if it was going to be a fight. He felt bad enough and besides, Charles was- he didn't really know, a _doll_ now? He'd seen some commercials for those toys on the television once.

"I know," again, he responded. What else could he say? "I'm sorry, Charles." He let the silence settle over them again, unsure of whether there were right words to speak or if he should just shut the hell up and leave it up to Charles if they should talk some more.

"I'm not gonna lie and say it's ok."

Eddie nodded, looking off. This time it was Chucky staring at his profile, wondering what the old bum had rattling about in his skull. "I gotcha," he replied, and the doll sighed and leaned back.

"But I am gonna say that I fucking forgive you."

Eddie jolted in surprise and turned to face Charles. He searched his face for some sort of hint that he was lying. Any minute and Charles would explode, or become extremely angry. It was how it had always been. This had to be a trick, surely.

However, the look on Charles face that he saw was blank. Or, more accurately, it was _calm_. Fucking calm! Eddie blinked in shock. "It's not that simple," he whispered, unbelieving to what he saw in front of him. His brow cocked upward, curious and cynical. "Is it?"

Chucky shrugged. "Look, man, I don't wanna be mad about this anymore," he said simply. "You said you're sorry, and it looks like you fuckin' mean it. I've been anal about the fact you left me for a long time now, and- I don't wanna' do it anymore."

He turned, and now they were facing each other, and there was no way to hide that this was, in fact, what was happening now. Eddie tried to pretend he didn't notice Charles' eyes misting. He supposed his own were too.

"I forgive you. It's over…" There was a break in his tone, a crack in the depth of his voice. Charles stopped and shook his head, cleared his throat. "Deal?"

His voice was stronger now, no wavering in it as he held out his hand. Eddie nodded, silently and took it. It was a strange feeling, to hold a small hand and having to tell himself this _was _Charles. He was shaking _Charles'_ hand right now, and they were, after all this time, making up. And possibly catching up.

The hardest thing for him to contemplate now was that Charles had not shown anger at all. The little bastard was a regular fucking fireball, where was that heated passion of begrudging and vengeance? Hadn't Charles screamed at him that one night of such vengeance, as he cowardly drove away and left him behind? No- the Charles _he _had known would not have just sat through this and talked this way with him. No goddamn way.

"You've changed," he concurred, shaking the doll hand slowly in their deal. "You're not the guy I used to know."

Charles laughed. "No," he responded. "Life fucking changes you, you know?" But his eyes held stories that were untold, and Eddie, though he may have only been a bum, knew for a fact that it was more than just _life _that had changed the person before him now.

"Tell your… tell your housemate I said thanks for the basket," Eddie put in, using the same awkward word that the young man had used when he had come by before.

They shared a glance. Chucky knew that the thanks was not meant to be wasted on only the basket. The thing was stupid, he knew it, and he knew Eddie probably didn't normally use things like that. Had he meant the thanks to be only for the basket, he wouldn't have even mentioned Andy.

He nodded and said, "I will."

That being said, they shared a comfortable silence a while longer before Chucky finally left, with his classic, "Bye fucker," and Eddie's casual comeback of, "Yeah- see you later, asshole," only this time, it held no malice. Chucky turned back once on his way home, and saw Eddie still standing on the porch, holding a can of beer.

He waved.

When he arrived back at the familiar piece of shit steps to his own home, Andy was sitting on the swing bench, reading, blanket tangled about his legs. He looked convincingly occupied with the book in front of him, as if he _hadn't _just been waiting for the doll to come home.

Chucky shook his head at him. "You don't even _like _those Nancy Drew books," he said, crossing his arms and giving Andy a pointed look, eyebrow raised accusingly.

Andy looked up as if he hadn't even noticed him there. "Maybe I changed my mind," he retorted, striking an innocent expression before patting the space next to him on the bench. Chucky obliged and crawled up next to him, situation himself loudly and shoving the decorative pillows every which way.

"So…" Andy started his gaze fixed on Chucky now. "How did it go?" He looked worried, as Chucky suspected he would be. He snorted.

"Terrible. Worst decision ever. I wasted my fuckin' time."

But his tone gave away the truth of the matter, and Andy visibly relaxed and leaned back against the bench, letting it swing mildly again. "Eddie said thanks for the basket though."

Chucky said this while looking over at Andy meaningfully, and the young man seemed to understand. "Well," he sighed dramatically, a devilish grin beginning on his face. "Sucks that it was such a _waste_ then. You could've been here with me, reading this most _intriguing_ scene where Nancy _finally_ finds…"

Chucky elbowed him hard, and Andy choked on his laughter before lightly punching him back. The two tousled playfully on the now dangerously swinging bench, ending with the doll pinned under Andy's forearm, both on the verge of laughing.

"Fuck you," Chucky said, scowling up at him.

"Maybe later," Andy replied cheekily.


End file.
